


Persistence

by MapleMermaid



Series: Persistence [1]
Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Animal Transformation, M/M, Magical Realism
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-08-29
Updated: 2016-08-29
Packaged: 2018-08-11 17:48:52
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,290
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7902025
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MapleMermaid/pseuds/MapleMermaid
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It’s impossible, they say. No one knows how it happened, they say. Nothing can be done, they say.</p><p>They never thought to factor in Geno Malkin.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Persistence

**Author's Note:**

> Huge thanks to Squids for looking over this for me, and spending about half an hour helping me with a summary and title. I wouldn't have had the nerve to post this otherwise. <3
> 
> For my twitter TL who got the barebones of this, and asked for the whole thing.

**Intro**

It’s impossible, they say.

No one knows how it happened, they say.

Nothing can be done, they say.

However, Geno (né: Evgeni) Malkin comes from Russia: a land where Baba Yaga isn’t quite a folk’s tale but a warning, and eggs can have needles instead of yolks. Where the culture is rich and the history is vast and fiction is only a step away from fact. Where the weather is as beautiful and dangerous as the people, and you’ll freeze to death but for a stranger’s kindness: hard won because of rightful suspicion. You can die in Russia without trust.

Sometimes you’ll die because of it.

That’s neither here nor there, but it means that when Geno is told there’s no answer, he refuses to believe it. If there’s no answer it simply means no one has searched hard enough. Geno plans to search.

Russians have been called stubborn. That may be relevant to the story. Russian love stories never have happy endings.

Now whether that is relevant or not is yet to be determined.

———————

**Part I**

No one seems to know how it happened, is the thing. People _saw_ it happen of course, but no one understands _how_.

Geno won’t accept that as an answer. Nothing happens without a reason, even if the reason doesn’t make any sense. He just needs to find it. Even the smallest explanation — there has to be one.

He gets a library card in Pittsburgh. He checks out every book he can and orders others. He calls his mama for advice. He calls _everyone_ for advice. He and Sasha aren’t always on the best of terms, but Sasha is educated, and Geno is loathe to deny any means of help. Even if it means dealing with Sasha texting and calling at all hours of the day and night.

He researches for days, then weeks, then months. He exhausts the patience of every person that knows him, and a fair few people that don’t. He still finds no answer.

By the end of the hockey season, he’s no closer to a solution, and the papers have moved on to a different story. Still, every once in awhile, a photo crops up, or a small article is printed. All with the same theme: ‘Is Magic Real?’

And another: ‘Sidney Crosby: Actual Penguin?’

Geno clips each article, pins it to his wall, and continues his research.

———————

Sidney makes a pretty cute penguin when all is said and done. He’s a Little Penguin according to specialists, the smallest type of penguin in the world. When Sid is human again (when not if) Geno plans to chirp him _relentlessly_.

He tries to keep that humour after six months have gone by and he’s still no closer to an answer. He’s found the answer to a thousand different questions he never knew existed but not the one he needs. Magic exists, Geno has discovered. Why Sid is a penguin is still unknown.

Still, Sid seems happy enough. He chirrups happily when the Pittsburgh zookeepers feed him. The keepers like to tickle him and Sid always makes a ridiculous warbling laugh that doesn’t resemble his human laugh at all but makes Geno ache all the same. Geno isn’t certain how much of being a human Sid remembers. Maybe he doesn’t remember at all. He’s not sure if that would be better or worse.

The keepers wave whenever Geno visits. They know him very well now and Geno is grateful they haven’t sold the story of ‘Penguins Teammate can’t accept reality and give up on former Penguin Captain penguin’. Maybe it’s because no one can figure out a tagline. Still, they let Geno visit when he likes. They’ve offered to let Geno see Sid but after the first couple days it was too painful. Sid the penguin treated him no differently from anyone else and Geno is hard-pressed to admit to finding any intelligence other than aviary in Sid’s expression.

It would drive anyone else to frustration. It merely furthers Geno’s determination. Somewhere there’s an answer. He just has to keep looking.

———————

The problem with magic is no one likes to talk about it. Even when people know you know, no one wants to admit it. It’s like trying to pull his own teeth: slippery, painful, and aggravating. He mostly gets his answers by persistently refusing to give up. Every single person has a breaking point, and Geno has found most everyone’s just by out-stubborning them.

He talks to sorcerers and golems, fey and fox, trolls and dwarves. He meets creatures he never knew existed in places he’s certain didn’t exist before he went looking for them.

They tell him as much as they can, but all say he’d be better to talk to a witch. It’s advice Geno would take if anyone knew where a witch _was_. If anyone knows, they aren’t talking.

He’s on the phone with Sidney’s mother when he admits to his frustration. “Everyone says: Need a witch. Witches best for changing things. No one knows where a witch _is_ though.”

It’s the long pause that clues Geno in. Like tectonic plates shifting, he hears the slight hitch of breath, and his brain twists in on itself. Geno has spent months listening and waiting for clues. Watching for the breaking point of each and every magical being he’s talked to.

Trina Crosby is not magical, but she has the same tells as anyone else, and the silence has Geno’s head spinning on its axis. Like a final puzzle piece slotting into place, he _knows_.

“Trina,” he says softly, and waits.

He makes sure the call hasn’t disconnected when there’s nothing but silence. He wonders if he should push, but thinks better of it. Sometimes just waiting it out is enough.

“Canada is quite big,” Trina says, just as quietly. “There are plenty of places for things to hide. For… For _people_ to hide. Ones that might not want to be found.”

“Trina, _please_.”

“We made a deal. It was never meant to be permanent.”

“ _Trina_.”

The call disconnects, and Geno is maybe a minute away from paying for a flight to Nova Scotia when his phone pings with a text. An address.

He buys the ticket anyway. Apparently what he needs is still in Nova Scotia.

———————

The thing is, people aren’t supposed to talk about magic. If you find something fixed that couldn’t or shouldn’t be fixed, if you wake up one morning hale and healthy when you once were on death’s door, if your Captain turns into a penguin when he used to be a Penguin — _you don’t talk about it_.

Geno’s talking about it though. He won’t stop talking about it, and it’s exhausting the patience of even the most stalwart. People who have kept their secrets for millennia give themselves up to Evgeni Malkin and his Persistence. Geno isn’t even aware of the waves he’s making in the magical world. Things that haven’t spoken for years are speaking, friends turned enemies turn friend again, ripples build and grow, all to talk about the strange, stubborn human who won’t do what he’s supposed to and just _give up_.

The Crosby’s have kept their secret for almost thirty years when Geno shows up. He’s stubborn, he’s defiant, he’s _hopeful_ , and fear that has stilled Trina’s tongue is cracked down the middle in the face of one Evgeni Malkin.

She tells herself it won’t affect her. She never actually made any promises to keep quiet. She hadn’t needed to. No one would have believed her. Even now, it would have done her no good to admit what happened.

Troy had desperately wanted a child. Trina, too, if she were being fair. It was so hard, though. There were so many complications. So many failures. If she hadn’t already had a passing knowledge of magic, perhaps she would have kept trying naturally. She would have had Taylor, regardless, even if it was years later than planned.

Trina wasn’t patient however, and she knew magic. She knew where to look. She knew what to ask for. She knew what to give up. Spells weren’t as costly back then. Magic not as secretive. For a few favours, and whatever little magic she had to give, Trina had a child. Years later, she had another. Regardless of the sacrifice and the circumstances, she loved both of them equally. Her determined and passionate little boy, and her bright and fierce little girl.

She never told Taylor how she had Sid. Anytime Taylor asked her anything about Sid, it was always in a strange sideways manner of conversation that had Trina answering things she never meant to in ways she hadn’t expected. Still, she never actually told Taylor. She ignored how Taylor seemed to already know.

Her two strange, beautiful children.

She never thought much on Sid being a penguin. Trina’s not even certain where Sid came from. She just remembers making her deal, the witch’s room dropping to a bone-snapping cold, and then there he was: soft and sweet and tiny and perfect and _hers_. Her little baby boy. What did she care where he came from or what he was? He was hers, for as long as she could have him.

Letting him go to Shattuck nearly gutted her, but she supposes that’s what one does for one’s children. You make sacrifices, you love them with everything you have, and not when you’re ready, but _they_ are, you let them go. She knows Sid didn’t remember being a penguin, but sometimes she wondered if he didn’t grab at life so fiercely because he knew he wasn’t supposed to have it.

Regardless, when she turns on the news and hears her son has changed into a penguin, the only thing she can think is, no, he changed _back_ , with a sad resignation. Her little boy was gone. Gone forever. She realizes she’s been waiting for this moment all Sid’s life and is strangely accepting of the loss.

She, like many others, never factored in Geno.

Like all other beings, Trina can’t withstand the force of Geno’s will. She can’t wish herself into positivity, but after months, she wonders what it would hurt. She gives up more than she means to, and decides in for a dime, in for a dollar, and texts him an address.

She thinks she might hate him, just a little, for making her hope again.

———————

The witch who answers Geno’s knock is nothing like what he was expecting. He’s not entirely sure _what_ he was expecting. The sorcerers he’s seen have all been heavily bearded and weighted with the magics of the universe. Golems care of nothing but their masters and occasionally, terrifyingly, freedom. Fey and fox are strange and otherworldly, as are trolls and dwarves.

The woman who answers the door could be his grandmother. The same stooped stance, but strong shoulders, the same bright wicked gleam of knowledge in the eyes, the same unimpressed look to find Geno in front of her, as though Geno is lacking somehow.

“I’d say this is unexpected, but I suppose it really isn’t,” she says, and even her exasperated tone reminds Geno of his babushka. “Well come on in then. Stop standing on my doorstep like a lump. My AC isn’t great and I’m not paying to cool the outside. Kids these days,” she mutters as Geno follows her inside. The door swings shut behind him. Magic? Or the wind? Honestly, Geno isn’t certain this woman is really a witch. She just seems crabby.

Still, best to be sure. “Grandmother, I am here—”

She cuts him off with a cackle. “ _Grandmother_. Oh that’s rich. I’ve neither children nor grandchildren, boy. You can call me Theodora. Not Dora, Theodora. If you call me Dora so help me.”

Geno follows her into what he assumes is a sitting room, and there are _doilies_ . It’s so aggressively _normal_ after so many months of finding the weirdest inexplicable things that he’s at a loss. He follows her in sitting and breathes in slowly, his eyes slipping shut. He’s not sure where to start.

“Sugar or jam?”

He opens his eyes, and blinks. Blinks again. He still doesn’t understand. Between the two of them is a small table, ladened with a tea service and different plates of sweets. Theodora has shoved the jam towards him, despite his lack of answer, and all of this would be fine had the entire table and service been there before he closed his eyes.

It’s the first sign, excluding the uncertain door closing, that Geno is in a magical house. Everything around him suggests he’s in just another human home, but the tea service belies the normalcy. It’s almost more disconcerting than anywhere else he’s ever been. It makes it easier for him to ask his question.

“I am here—”

“To ask about your Penguin who is no longer a Penguin but a penguin. Yes, I’m aware.” She spoons heaps of sugar into her tea at a rate that gives even Geno, a lover of sweet tea, pause. He’s fairly certain the sugar has stopped dissolving by the time she lifts the cup to her lips, and sips, smiling as though it’s perfect. When she looks at Geno her smile drops, and she raises an eyebrow. “You’ve made quite a few ripples in the community. I don’t think the North and South winds have been this busy in a century, at least. You are very dangerous Evgeni Vladimirovich Malkin.”

Geno isn’t sure he’s completely understood any of the English that’s left Theodora’s mouth but he knows he never gave his name. A trickle of fear slides down his spine. He’s found himself in some of the strangest, dangerous, most unknown places in the past few months, but there’s something here that tickles in the back of his throat, and has him on guard.

“If you know, then you have answers,” Geno says, finally.

Theodora continues to sip at her tea. “Perhaps,” she says, and it sounds like _yes_.

“A solution?” Geno pushes and Theodora hums. It sounds like _maybe_ , and something flips over in Geno’s chest.

Hope.

“So you know that wishes come with sacrifice,” Theodora says, setting her tea down.

Geno nods. He’s come across enough wishing wells and the aftermath, to know what one can give up for a wish. Give up unintentionally, even. Geno intends to know what he’s doing. He’s willing to sacrifice, but he’ll know what it is first. He squares his shoulders and clenches his teeth when Theodora shoots him a sharp look.

He waits under her assessing glare until it softens. “Spells weaken,” she says, softly. “Spells fade. He was too much to contain. Too much to survive. No one could account for that much life, even if they knew to try, you understand. I _am_ sorry, for what it’s worth.”

Geno believes her, is the thing. He believes she regrets the end result of what became an almost thirty year spell. He can’t imagine she would have given life just to let it go, and laugh at the aftermath. She really does remind him of his babushka as he sees the lines on her face and the age in her eyes. She looks almost too old to be alive in this moment, but then again, Geno has no proof she _is_ alive. Who can tell when it comes to magic?

It’s irrelevant. He didn’t work this hard and come all this way for platitudes. “So we make a new deal,” he says.

He doesn’t know if it will work, but Theodora looks younger again, a strange gleam in her eyes. “What would you give up? It has to be important.”

And here it is. The question Geno has been waiting for, for months. He’s always known the answer. “Anything,” he murmurs.

He yelps when she smacks his forehead. “Stupid, don’t ever say that to a witch,” Theodora says, and honestly, she has to be related to his babushka. Though Geno is more used to an ear-boxing than a head slap, the pain is the same. As is the exasperation. “Still. That devotion. That I will take.”

The pain is easy to ignore after that statement. Geno swallows hard. It’s not the answer he expected, but he was truthful earlier. He’ll give up anything. “My love for Sid?” he asks.

He isn’t expecting Theodora to cackle. “Oh no, dear. I’ll be taking your ignorance, but I’ll be taking _his_ love.”

There’s a long pause as Geno tries and fails to understand. Geno is ignorant? Sid’s love? Sid’s—

It feels like being cross-checked unexpectedly. His ears roar, his eyesight goes blurry, and he sucks in a harsh breath. Sid doesn’t— He _couldn’t_. He shakes his head, trying to come back to himself, and catches Theodora’s expression. It’s a strange look, one that Geno doesn’t understand, and he shakes his head again.

“There’s the ignorance,” she says. “Now I just need his love.”

Even those words are enough to hurt. It can’t possibly be fair for Geno to have this revelation. Here, in the sitting room of a witch, making a deal to get his Captain back, but not just his Captain. Sid’s not just anything, he’s _everything_ , and to find this out, here at the end of things… “I— I can’t give you that. It’s not mine to give,” he says.”

Theodora shrugs. “Then he stays a penguin, loving no one ever again.”

Geno flinches. He can’t. He shouldn’t, but who would know? Who has ever known? Geno didn’t even have a clue — and to have Sid back. Well.

The silence is consuming. It makes his next words seem too loud, too resonant. They seem to echo strangely. “I accept.”

The air goes thick in an instant, it seems to get darker in the room, as though a cloud outside has passed over the sun. It passes quickly, but Geno still has the feeling of something ending. The final page in a chapter being turned.

“It is done,” Theodora says, and yes, Geno thinks. He is done.

———————

**Part II**

The crowd roars so loudly, Geno can barely hear anything else. There’s a choking, delirious joy expanding in his heart and lumped in his throat. His eyes well up, but there’s no time for that. He blinks away tears as he looks around to see his team screaming in joy.

They’ve finally done it again. Through trials and tribulations, they’ve won the Cup.

Geno watches Sid roar in delight and can’t tear his eyes away as Sid skates to the end of the rink, grabs his Conn Smythe, and then the Cup. He watches Sid skate, when last year this time, he didn’t know if he’d ever see Sid skate again, and thinks to himself it was worth it.

It was all worth it.

———————

It isn’t until the celebrations start that things begin to fall apart.

Sid has been no further away than a foot from Geno all evening. Combined with the way Sid had flung himself into Geno’s arms and buried his face in Geno’s neck, the champagne making everything tilt alarmingly, Geno finds himself confused and aching. This should be the happiest night of his life, excluding maybe the first time, but he can’t help but look at Sid. Sid smiling, and Sid laughing, and Sid _existing_ , and feeling a hollow twist in his gut.

Sid doesn’t know what he did. He came back to himself in his parent’s backyard apparently. Why the magic decided to steal him away from the zoo and plunk him, completely naked, in the Canadian Maritimes instead of just leaving him in Pittsburgh is anyone’s guess.

Geno never explained to Sid what happened. He’s not sure if _anyone_ told Sid what had happened beyond him being a penguin for six months or so. Geno just knows that after he flew home from Nova Scotia, he came back to Russia with his cellphone screaming with texts and missed calls. One of the only ones he listened to was from Trina, her words a clear but wet-sounding, _thank you_.

He tries not to think about what he sacrificed to be here, in this moment. Sid is by his side, they have the Cup, and Geno thinks what he might have done otherwise, and can’t fathom what that would even have been. So Sid doesn’t love him anymore. It’s not something that they ever acted on, so Geno can’t be regretful. Maybe he can consider what might have been, but he can’t really because then he never would have had Sid again. He’ll take what he can get.

They have to clear out of the locker room eventually, and maybe it would have been nice to have won it at home, but this is still good. This is amazing.

Despite everyone still being drunk when they arrive back home, their celebration is tempered by exhaustion, and they all decide sleeping is their number one priority. Sid and Geno are both wrecked, and it’s perfectly normal for them to take a taxi to Geno’s and just crash there.

It's all completely normal until the next morning, when Geno finds himself pressed up against his kitchen counter with a cautious, shaking Sid in his arms, and he breaks.

He kisses him back, helplessly, because how can he resist? But when he finally figures out what is happening through the slow haze of the hangover, he tries not to panic. “Sid, what—”

Sid looks up at him with bright and hopeful eyes, and leans in again. Geno steps back. No, this isn’t right. This isn’t supposed to be happening. He gave this up, right? If he gave up Sid’s love, then that makes this—

Geno can’t bear the thought of this being a one-time thing — a celebratory fuck after winning the Cup. He can’t do that with Sid. Not now, probably not ever. He steps back again, and watches something shutter in Sid’s eyes. “Sid.”

Sid shakes his head. “Sorry. I— I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have. I’ll go.”

Before Geno can say anything else, he’s gone, and Geno is left reeling in his kitchen. His mouth is still damp from where Sid had placed careful wet kisses, and he has to grip the counter to keep his knees from giving out.

In the ensuing silence, his confusion wins out. “What the fuck?” He asks himself aloud.

That felt— That felt _important_ . That felt like _something_ , but it can’t be because Geno gave that up. He gave up any chance he had at Sid’s love for Sid’s life. That was the bargain.

The bargain, he thinks, and his stomach clenches in fear. He made a deal. Sid’s love for his life. If that’s breaking, if the magic is slipping again… No. He can’t do it. He can’t have it. Not again. He can’t lose Sid again.

He runs.

———————

Theodora opens her door and her head twists to the side in consideration. She looks like an owl with her contorted neck and big, blinking eyes.

Geno’s spent two days on a celebratory bender, one night half-asleep, half-drunk, one morning confused as fuck, and the rest of the day absolutely terrified. He’s not ashamed to admit his eyes well up with tears. “He kissed me,” he chokes out. “He kissed me and you said— You took it. You _said_ . So _why_?”

Theodora finally beckons him in. Geno follows helplessly, and tries to bite back his sobs. What if he’s ruined everything? He’s tried to be good. He’s tried to keep his distance all year and get over Sid. Sid is still Sid though, and Geno loves him so much, and he couldn’t stay away for long.

What if he did this? What if he fucked up the magic and now it’s going to snap and Sid is going to be a penguin again and Geno doesn’t know if you can make the same deal twice and how many times will he have to do this if he can’t stay away and will he have to go back to Russia to keep Sid safe?

“Stop,” Theodora says, and sits him in a chair. She hands him a cup of tea that Geno blindly drinks. He wipes at his eyes but it doesn’t help. “Breathe.”

He sucks in a breath, wet and shaking. “You _said_.”

“I said I would take his love, not that he would never love again.”

His cup is full again and he drinks this tea just as quickly. He feels like he’s trying to swallow around shattered glass. “But—”

“He fell in love with you once. You think it couldn’t happen twice?”

He was right. This is all his fault. He stayed too close. He’s fucked it all up. “So he’ll turn back,” he says, voice hollow. He’s ruined everything.

“Of course he won’t.”

Geno jerks his head up. The tea cup slips from his fingers and he hears it shatter against the floor but he pays it no mind. “ _What_ ,” he croaks.

Theodora shakes her head and smiles at him as if he’s a particularly dumb child. “Well, that was never part of the bargain was it,” she says.

It feels like all the air has been sucked from the room. Geno’s instantly dizzy. “But—” He cuts himself off, thinking. She never said. He never said. They never said. It wasn’t part of the bargain.

He can’t believe it. It doesn’t seem fair. He gave it up. That was the _point_. The point of a sacrifice was you sacrificed. You don’t get the things you give away back. That’s not how it works.

“You think you know my magic better than I do?” Theodora says, eyebrow cocked. “The only thing you owe me is a new teacup, but that can be settled later. I believe you have a future waiting for you.”

She hauls him out of the chair and shoves him in short bursts towards the door. Geno keeps stopping to marvel at this strange new universe where Sid loves him and Geno loves him back and they’re _allowed_. He doesn’t have to worry about losing Sid, or the magic slipping.

He didn’t realize magic had a loophole. He wonders if that was intentional. When he looks back at Theodora, she’s still shoving and huffing at him, but there’s a smile quirked at the corner of her lips. “Thank you,” he says, hoarsely.

“Yes, yes. Good _day_ Mr. Malkin,” she says, and shuts the door in his face. Geno doesn’t even care that it smacks his nose because Sid loves him.

Sid loves him, and he loves Sid, and there’s nothing to hold them back.

He flies back to Pittsburgh in a daze.

———————

Geno’s not sure how he’s going to explain, or how to fix things with Sid. He’s certain he _can_ fix it. He just needs a game plan. So he goes home first.

It’s a ridiculous hour of the morning, and he’s not entirely sure when the last time he properly slept was. Sometime before the playoffs started, probably. It means he’s not sure he isn’t having delusions when he comes home to Sid sitting at his kitchen table, head in his hands.

Sid looks up at the sound of Geno stepping into the room. His eyes are red and bloodshot, and his nails are bitten to the quick. Geno wonders when _he_ last slept. Probably the same time as Geno. “Sid,” he murmurs.

“I’m sorry,” Sid says, and it takes Geno a minute to register it.

“Sid, no.”

“I didn’t mean to fuck this all up. I just thought it seemed like good timing? I mean, we won the Cup again, finally, and I realized how I felt about you, and I didn’t think it would be such a terrible idea. I guess it was the champagne, and I wanted to apologize and promise it won’t happen again.”

“ _Sid_.”

“You know me, G. I can be professional about this. I promise. This won’t affect our playing at all, and really it’s not like we talk much during practice or games, so it won’t be too hard. We can keep this completely professional and I— I mean I hope we can be friends again. I understand if you don’t think you can right now, if that’s not something you’re comfortable with. Just, in the future, I think we could still be friends.”

Geno strangely thinks of Theodora who shoved him and told him to take his future. Maybe, in this case, action instead of speech would be best. He steps closer, and Sid doesn’t even flinch. He just stands there as if Geno is going to… What? What does he think Geno would do to him?

Whatever it was, he probably didn’t expect Geno to cut off his babbling by cradling Sid’s face in his hands and kissing him. Or attempting to, anyway. It takes Sid a moment to realize what’s happening, his mouth still moving as he tries to talk to Geno about something that doesn’t need to be explained.

“Geno, you don’t have to—”

His breath hitches when Geno kisses him again. Geno wonders how long it will take Sid to get the idea when Sid shudders and just _melts_. His arms loop around Geno’s neck, and Geno hauls him up and in, holding him up as he keeps kissing him.

Sid is making fantastic noises when Geno yawns into his mouth. He’d be embarrassed, but Sid just giggles, then honks a laugh. Soon he’s shaking with laughter in Geno’s arms, and Geno finds himself joining in, their laughter echoing around the kitchen.

“Just needed some time to think about it?” Sid asks when they’ve settled down again.

He deserves an explanation, but Geno yawns again when he opens his mouth, and Sid joins him. “Is long story,” he says.

Sid nods. “That’s okay; you can tell me later. For now, I think we both need to crash.” He ends that statement with another big yawn.

Geno nods and pulls away. He leads them upstairs, both almost tripping over each other. He takes great pleasure in watching the way even Sid’s ears go red when Geno doesn’t let him go to his usual guestroom, instead tugging him into the master suite.

He’s too tired to do anything, but that doesn’t mean he’s going to let Sid out of his sight for a moment. Not again. He tucks Sid into his arms, kisses the top of his head, and holds on as tight as he possibly can.

From the way Sid clings back, he’s probably okay.

———————

He does explain, eventually. It isn’t fair to keep it secret now that he doesn’t have to. He expects Sid to be angry with him, but Sid just makes a considering face and nods.

“I mean, it’s not the greatest? But if you hadn’t, I wouldn’t be here. _We_ wouldn’t be here.” He slips his fingers between Geno’s and smiles so softly and so sweetly at Geno, that Geno thinks his heart will burst.

“Here now,” Geno says, voice hoarse, and tips in.

“We are,” Sid says, and meets him halfway.

A shivering ripple makes it way, unseen but felt, through the air. A witch in Nova Scotia hums, pleased, into her sweetened tea. A gap-toothed sorcerer in Washington cocks his head, listens, and laughs. A blonde changeling in Minnesota sighs, relieved.

A communal thought washes over the magical world in general: _oh thank god_. Evgeni Malkin and his Persistence are, at least for now, out of their hair.

In their kitchen in Pittsburgh, Sid and Geno are aware of none of these things. Trading kisses in each other’s arms, they only know that for once, everything feels the way it should.

Complete.

**Author's Note:**

> [I have a tumblr! Feel free to ask me things :D](http://mermaple.tumblr.com/)


End file.
